


behave yourself, baby

by softpetal



Category: TharnType the Series (TV)
Genre: A lot of kissing, Aftercare, BDSM, Brattiness, Dom/sub, M/M, Spanking, a lil bit of smut, dom!tharn, my boys are soft and in love, sexy times occur, sub!type, they’re also horny a lot tbh, type being a brat is my fave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:27:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23433166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softpetal/pseuds/softpetal
Summary: Type is a moody brat sometimes and his dom boyfriend needs to punish him.The thing is… Type knows exactly what he’s doing.
Relationships: Tharn Kirigun/Type (TharnType)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 263





	behave yourself, baby

**Author's Note:**

> my first fic for ttts!
> 
> remember everyone, if you engage in any kind of BDSM make sure it’s safe, sane and consensual. 
> 
> hope you enjoy!
> 
> EDIT: OMG I forgot to write hbd Type! it’s tomorrow in my time zone but the celebrations are already happening ;)

The bar is heaving and Type is in a _mood_. 

It’s a combination of moods, really; on one hand he is really really _really_ enjoying watching his boyfriend drum, as he always does. He loves watching Tharn’s face; the concentration and then the way he relaxes into the rhythm, that peaceful expression, how his brows soften. He loves letting his eyes drift to Tharn’s hands; the commanding way they move, the veins and the toned muscles in his forearms standing out - and he also likes the way Tharn smirks over at him during a certain line here and there, his dark eyes flashing with something he’s going to elaborate on later. At home. 

He sends over one of said smirks at this very moment and Type scowls back, pouting and looking down at his empty glass, trying to ignore what that smirk did to his insides. 

Because although he loves watching Tharn at the bar, he does _not_ want to be here right now. He’s been here every night this week and yes, he’s quite happy these days to be the supportive boyfriend (it gets his neck a lot of one-to-one time with Tharn’s mouth), but the music is loud and the crowd is loud and they’re all _over_ his man and he’s tired and grumpy and wants to be at home in front of the TV with a whole table of food and Tharn’s arm around his waist. 

He looks back and Tharn raises his eyebrows. _What?_ He mouths, still drumming. Type just rolls his eyes and gets up from the table, scraping the chair as loud as he can (not that it makes any difference).

\--

Well.

It might make _some_ difference. 

Outside, Type catches himself wondering just how far he might be able to push his boyfriend tonight with his huffy mood. He remembers the last time he sulked and what Tharn did to him when they got home. He feels the blush reach up to the top of his ears when he thinks of his boyfriend’s dominant hands - so skilled at the drumsticks tonight, but when they were pinning him face down and leaving marks on his ass a few weeks ago, he couldn’t sit on a chair for days afterwards without wincing. The word ‘brat’ rang in his ears every time.

And he loved it. 

He’s in public so he tries to distract himself, tries not to think about the way one of Tharn’s hands ran up his inner thigh, the other holding both his wrists at the other end of the bed. Tharn’s teeth on his back and his palm on his ass, again and again, eliciting noises Type never thought he could make. The way he came so hard afterwards (Tharn’s nails sunk into his cheeks) - so unexpectedly and how much he blushed when his boyfriend realised how much he - and Tharn - had enjoyed it.

His heart is pounding and his face is burning.

Dammit; he wants that again. Right now.

\--

Wow, Type is in some mood. He’d been huffy all evening from the moment they got to P’Jeed’s bar, but that scowl was the last straw.

Tharn finds his boyfriend outside, hands in his pockets, kicking the wall aimlessly. 

“What was that about?”

He looks up and shrugs. Tharn takes a step closer. 

“I’ve told you before, you don’t need to be there every night! Some weeks I just have more gigs than others - I love it when you’re there but if you wanna be home, that’s… cool,” he trails off. “I mean, why the hell were you there tonight when you obviously didn’t want to be?”

Type steps closer and does that eyeroll again and goddammit, it’s infuriating but it’s all Tharn can do not to kiss the pout that comes with it. “Well, someone has to keep an eye on you, don’t they? The amount of fans you had tonight, god - how many groupies would you get off with if I wasn’t here, huh?” Type pokes Tharn hard in the shoulder, glowering in overdramatic disgust.

“Jealous, still?” Tharn smirks, a little pool of heat forming in his belly at the thought.

Type frowns and goes to poke him again but Tharn is quicker, grabbing his boyfriend’s wrist - not hard, just firmly enough to see Type swallow, his eyes widen with realisation. His perfect mouth has frozen in a little ‘o’.

“I thought we talked about this, darling,” Tharn says in his lowest, most suggestive voice; the kind he knows makes Type shiver. He slides his other hand round the back of Type’s head, fingers lacing through his hair and tugging just ever so slightly. He leans close, to the point where he knows Type can feel his breath on his cheek. His boyfriend sighs quietly, almost undetectably, and his eyes flicker and start to close.

And then he says the thing he knows will catch his sub off-guard.

“Don’t test my patience again. It’s wearing thin.”

  
  


\---

  
  


They’d talked about it at length for a while; Type had brought it up, actually. Tharn had introduced so many things to their relationship (well… the gay thing, for a start) and Type wanted to bring _something_ \- and he’d had this on his mind for a long time. When he’d gingerly broached the subject one night at dinner, blushing furiously, Tharn had smiled back across the table at him, biting his lip.

_“Are you sure, Type?”_

A bashful - but decisive - nod.

Tharn’s smile broke into that dazzling beam.

_“I thought you’d never ask.”_

Type had grinned shyly back into his plate, temperature soaring at the thought. 

So they’d done a lot of research and a lot of discussing and a lot of late-night online browsing of various stores. They had talked endlessly about what it meant for both of them, why Type wanted it ( _“It makes me feel… safe with you”_ ), and why Tharn wanted it ( _“Good, because I want you to feel safe. I want to look after you,”_ ) - and both were certain. 

One night, Type had been lying with his head on Tharn’s chest, flicking through pages of various toys, feeling his boyfriend’s chuckle of approval rumble beneath him whenever he pulled up a particular item. Tharn’s thumb was drawing circles and Type’s pulse was racing and after a while the mere idea was turning them on far too much. The phone had slid off the bed as Type rolled on top and all shopping thoughts were lost to the floor when Type’s tongue was tracing Tharn’s lower lip and a masterful hand was sliding up the back of Type’s tank top. 

Future shopping sessions were more productive, though.

  
  


\---

  
  


Of course, this doesn’t stop Type from continuing to be a pain in the ass on the walk home. He crosses his arms and looks at the ground and refuses to answer his boyfriend’s questions other than with a grunt.

They’re walking side by side on the pavement and when Tharn tries to engage him in conversation only to met again with “Why should I care?” followed by a scuff on the ground, he’s made his mind up. 

He lets Type walk a step or two ahead before reaching out and grabbing his wrist, pulling Type back to him, body to body, with a sharp yank. Type’s chest is now pressed square against his and Tharn’s hands are securely on him - one at the wrist, one between his shoulder blades.

“Type…” he uses that voice again, right by his ear, and sees his boyfriend tense visibly, goosebumps appearing down the length of his arm. 

“Remember what we agreed we’d do, every time you’ve been misbehaving?”

A deep breath from Type. He leans into Tharn’s neck.

“Mm-hmm.”

  
  
  


\---

  
  
  


“Wanna have dinner first?”

Type looks thoughtful for a while, then shakes his head.

“Nah, I had enough bar snacks. You should go shower, though,” he adds, wrinkling his nose in mock-disapproval.

Tharn chuckles. “Cheeky. Fine, I’ll be ten minutes.” 

  
  
  
  


When he emerges from the bathroom again, fully dressed, he’s greeted by the most glorious fucking sight he thinks he’s ever seen.

It’s Type… kneeling on the bed, all mussy-haired, in that ‘borrowed’ oversized shirt that makes him look so damn gorgeous, and - oh god, nothing on underneath. When Type sees his boyfriend’s eyes widen he starts blushing from his collarbone, biting his lower lip - to try and hide a smirk? - Tharn doesn’t care at this point because the fire is starting to flicker again in the lowest part of his stomach. 

They both take a breath at the same time and within seconds, Tharn has closed the gap between them. He’s now on the bed too and his arms are under the shirt, around Type’s bare waist, and his boyfriend’s hands are clutching at the t-shirt over his chest as his mouth finds Type’s. Soft moans are muffled under lips and tongues as Type ends up sitting in Tharn’s lap, bare legs wrapped around that slim waist as he probes his tongue deeper into Tharn’s mouth and his fingers creep up the back of Tharn’s neck to grip his hair. His brazen gasps _will_ end Tharn, he just knows it. He’s already half-hard, his jeans straining painfully.

Tharn finally manages to wrench his mouth away ( _god_ , the whimper that Type makes at the disconnect really _will_ be his undoing) and traces a line with his lips down his throat to that gorgeous collarbone, and then his shoulders and - 

“Fuck!” Type gasps. Tharn’s teeth seem to have found their way in there, somewhere.

“What’s wrong, honey? Didn’t you know I was going to be rough with you tonight?” Tharn pulls away ever so slightly. “I thought that’s what you wanted?” Tharn looks straight into Type’s huge eyes, whose pupils are already blown wide. 

Type swallows and nods, urging Tharn to continue.

Tharn takes the signal and returns his lips to Type’s shoulder - gentler, this time. He hears his boyfriend gasp softly as his mouth travels up his neck, while his hands slide lower until they’ve settled over Type’s ass. He digs his nails into the soft globes and when his lips reach his boyfriend’s ear, he whispers into it, 

“You remember your safeword, right?”

Type clutches his shoulders harder and Tharn feels him nod, breathing heavily. 

“Yes.”

“Good. You’re mine, remember that.”

  
  
  


Admittedly, the shirt doesn’t stay on too long - it’s just getting in the way for Tharn. He pulls it off in one smooth move before going back to concentrating on Type’s shoulders for a while. as he leaves marks, he feels hands sliding into his hair again with a louder moan and pull without realising their own strength. 

He smirks. “That’s enough, you. I think it’s time for your punishment, don’t you?”

Type’s eyelids flutter open and he flushes dark red instantly at Tharn’s hard gaze. A tiny nod. 

  
  


He’s binding Type’s wrists with their favourite restraints and Type licks his swollen lips, and their eyes meet for a second. There’s fire in Type’s eyes - god, he wants this.

Tharn had been worried the first time; wanted to get it right, didn’t want to bring up any messy memories. But Type has orchestrated this whole situation from the start, and judging from shallow pants right now, he’s still _very_ into it.

Once he’s finished this, his hands travel over the restraints and up Type’s forearms, tracing his nails all the way up to his shoulders and down his back before looping an arm around his waist. Type is like putty in his hands and goes willingly as Tharn scoops him over his lap, bound wrists out in front of him, perfect bare ass laid out for Tharn.

Type squirms and Tharn grins as he feels his boyfriend harden already next to his thigh. This is new - they’ve done it on the bed before but never over Tharn’s lap and judging from this reaction, it was a good choice.

“Don’t start enjoying it too much; I am going to play with you tonight to my heart’s content.”

Type emits an incomprehensible noise.

  
  
  


_God, this is obscene,_ Tharn thinks - his very naked, very beautiful boyfriend spread out over his lap like a meal. Type is already flushed all over, the red tinge creeping over the honey skin of his back without Tharn even laying a hand on him.

He starts tracing his fingers from the back of Type’s knees up over his thighs to where his nails can graze his ass cheeks and back down again - just how he liked it last time. Type hums happily at the sensation - far too happily, in Tharn’s opinion.

Without wasting any more time, he raises his hand and brings his palm down suddenly for that first stinging slap. 

“ _Shit!_ ” Type practically shouts it into the bed as he flinches from the shock. 

“Watch your language, brat,” Tharn orders as he runs his fingers up through Type’s hair, yanking hard as he delivers the next blow. 

Type gasps loudly as the satisfying red starts to blossom over his cheeks. Tharn bites his lip at the sight as he continues to bring his palm down repeatedly, watching as the flush gets darker. Types’s hands are curling into fists in the duvet, tighter with each spank, as his gasps and moans become increasingly higher in pitch. Tharn can feel the full hardness of his boyfriend now against his thigh, and he slips a hand under Type’s hips to deftly give a quick stroke - just to see his boyfriend shudder so prettily. He’s going to push him a little further over the edge before properly touching him, though - this is a punishment after all.

“Move,” he commands as he slips an arm under type to shift him off his lap.

Type attempts to oblige - legs shaking as he hauls himself off Tharn’s thighs and face down onto the bed, slumping with his arms out in front of him. Tharn leans off the edge of the bed and underneath to where they keep their box of toys. Type hears the shuffling and turns his head to see what his boyfriend is plotting.

“What are you choosing?”

“Did I say you could talk?” Tharn spits back, dark eyes flashing. Type swallows and turns his head back to where it was, not uttering another word.

Tharn decides on the riding crop, black and sleek with its arrowhead-shaped leather tip.

He moves swiftly back over to his boyfriend and begins to trail the tip of the arrow up the back of Type’s legs.

Type immediately shudders, rubbing his face in the duvet and groaning with pleasure at what’s about to happen, and Tharn has to force himself to bite back a grin.

Tharn places a steady hand on Type’s upper back and softly rubs the arrowhead over his dark-red ass cheeks. Type winces and then tenses, waiting for the slap that doesn’t come. 

As soon as he relaxes for a nanosecond, Tharn’s wrist flexes hard and the crop hits.

“Oh, _god_ ,” Type almost wheezes as Tharn repeats.

“No noise from you unless I say so, brat,” Tharn pushes down with his free hand and lets his nails sink into Type’s back. His boyfriend nods silently. “Now, tell me why you’re being punished,” he demands as the crop comes down again and again, filling their bedroom with those delicious slapping sounds of leather on delicate skin.

“B-because… because I was moody tonight, P’Tharn,” Type breathes into the bedclothes.

“Mm,” Tharn grunts in agreement. “Anything else?” He fires the crop a few more times on Type’s ass in quick succession, gaining a delightful cluster of yelps. Type’s wrists are straining against the ties as he writhes below Tharn, who gives him another hard spank for good measure before he replies.

“I - because I was a - brat, and I shouldn’t behave like that when we’re in public - ah!” Type claws at the duvet again and moans louder as Tharn rewards this confession with yet another slap. And then another one, because really - he already told his brat not to make any noise.

“You’re an asshole, Type, aren’t you?” But Type is now too far gone, an incoherent mess as he tries to agree and Tharn knows when he turns him over his face will be beautifully flushed, hair stuck to his forehead. He starts to moan again - 

“Quiet. Let me look at you,” Tharn murmurs, putting the crop down to survey his work. Tharn’s ass is bright red and purple in places, where bruises are forming. He runs his fingers down his boyfriend’s nail-marked back until they reach the pillows of his ass, where he lets his nails sink in.

Type almost _sobs_. Tharn breathes hard, his erection now properly painful against the denim.

“I think that’s you suitably punished,”

He gently eases Type’s thighs apart and runs his fingers over the curves of his ass and underneath - and is surprised to discover Type has already prepped himself.

“What the hell, Type? When - ?”

Although exhausted and clearly in subspace, Type manages a giggle.

Tharn rolls his eyes and grins - he can’t help himself. “Fucking - asshole - brat!” He peppers these words with spanks and laughs, Type crying out as loud as he can now.

Now Tharn’s fingers are inside and Type is making the filthiest sounds as he tries to roll his hips and he’s _begging_ and pleading for release and suddenly Tharn feels the same. He’s undressed in record time and is inside Type for real, pounding him into the mattress as he grips onto the hips below him for dear life. 

They both come within seconds of each other, Type screaming Tharn’s name deep into the bed and when Tharn has rolled off and caught his breath, he turns to face his boyfriend.

Type is _wrecked_. 

He’s breathing hard, head tilted to the side, and Tharn was right - his cheeks are pink and his hair is everywhere - mostly on his face. Tharn reaches over to push some of it back and trail his thumb along a closed eyelid, and thinks - no, knows for certain - this man is literally the most beautiful person he’s ever seen. 

“You good, sweetie?” he murmurs as his thumb drifts over a hot cheek. Type mumbles something and nods, attempting to roll onto his side. Tharn chuckles and sits up, moving to untie Type. As the restraints fall away he leans over and places several soft kisses on each wrist. He moves his head to drop a light kiss on his boyfriend’s head before hopping to the bathroom for a cloth and lotion.

When he gets back onto the bed Type is shifting towards him to cling to him, and Tharn swears he feels his heart melt on the spot. 

“Hey, I’ve gotta get you cleaned up first, idiot,” Tharn smiles as he moves to hover over Type. he carefully runs the cloth over his boyfriend’s stomach and back and the rest of his body and then very gently begins to apply the lotion to the bruised ass and scratched back, hearing Type hiss quietly every so often. He puts a little on his wrists to soothe them too, before slumping back into the pillows and hauling Type into his arms. 

Sleepy Type rolls right into the side of his boyfriend, nuzzling his neck and breathing him in. 

“Mmmmm.” Type attempts to raise his head and lets it fall unceremoniously before cuddling back in.

Tharn laughs. “Is that all you can say?” A nod from his boyfriend in response.

He pulls Type closer still and they drift off together. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> dedicated to my girlfriend who got me into bl/ttts (and who definitely didn’t expect me to fall this hard) and my best friend who knows nothing of BL but still wanted to read this fic. I love you both ;)


End file.
